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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29459898">Found You</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotlegfryegg/pseuds/hotlegfryegg'>hotlegfryegg</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>VALORANT (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Im back on my shit, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 03:54:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>566</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29459898</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotlegfryegg/pseuds/hotlegfryegg</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The best feeling in the world is coming home to a warm bed.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Phoenix/Sova (VALORANT)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>42</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Found You</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>No moon hangs in the sky to greet the nighttime, leaving only the stars to wink at the world below from their home in the inky pitch of space. In another time, he would have stared out the aircraft window and sought out the constellations, remembered their stories, and longed for something he couldn’t quite place.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tonight his eyes are cast forward. He is searching for something amidst the dark, seeking the familiar planes of a skybound fortress. They’ll be in Venice soon. He’s anticipating, a little too tired to be live-wire alert but the pulse of that nameless want sits just under the curve of his ribs and props him upright.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If anyone else sees his nerves, or notices the way he’s already poised on the balls of his feet long before the airship lands, they’re gracious enough not to comment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Like a bullet fired from a gun, he’s the first one off the transport, speed-walking briskly as though he might be late for something. He’s not—he isn’t, really, there’s nothing to be late for—but he hurries all the same, down the halls of headquarters with single-minded determination.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The common spaces are always quiet around this time. Even the most restless members of their little assembly have disappeared to relish in their own privacy, although if there were anyone up and about he’d ignore them all the same. Nothing could stop him on his hunt. They’d be foolish to try, and they all know it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He rounds the corner and his pace slows, and slows further until he’s crept up to his destination. The keycard in his hand has become hot in his palm; the receiver takes it all the same, and he shuffles into the room, not daring to open the door any more than is necessary so as to keep out the fluorescent light from the hall.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With a quiet click, the door shuts behind him, and he goes still. He is listening with pinprick focus, eyes still adjusting to this new darkness.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A soft breath comes from the bed. The want in his chest curls tight, a pupa in chrysalis.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Each movement is slow, precise. His gear bag is lowered from his shoulder, lowered still until it silently rests on the floor, before he starts on the clasps of his cloak. As he undresses with that same deliberate motion, he inches carefully forward, letting each garment lay where it falls (he can tidy up later, and perhaps borrow Cypher’s iron). The jingle of his chest plates makes him wince, and not without good reason as what he had been so carefully avoiding comes to fruition:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A pair of embers smoulder up at him from the pillow, firelight against white linen. “Hey,” says a voice thick with sleep. It’s too dark to see it, but Phoenix is smiling.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sova both rejoices and wilts, dropping the offending clothing with a resigned sigh. “I’m sorry, I did not mean to wake you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Phoenix doesn’t seem to care. The blankets are peeled back, and a dark hand reaches out to brush along Sova’s leg and tug on his trousers. “C’mere.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m still dressed,” the hunter protests, going anyway.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Their noses bump in the dark and the kiss is a little clumsy at that angle, but somewhere in the press of those plush lips against his, Sova finds a name for what he’d been wanting.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Happy Valentines Day 💕</p></blockquote></div></div>
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